The Red and the Dead
by Lepidissima
Summary: Grell decides that Sebastian is unworthy of his affection. Confusion ensues when Undertaker steps into the picture. Fluff with plot, post ship voyage arc. Low T for murder/language/etc. Enjoy.
1. Chapter 1: Grell

Gunshots, shouts, and hurried footsteps rend the still air. Grell, dozing on the roof of a factory, groans and sits up. "Ugh...why can't these humans let me rest in peace? It's not my fault I'm a light sleeper," he complains, rubbing his head. "Oh my God my hair must look disastrous – "

"Pardon me," a quick, silky voice interrupts. Something dark sails overhead, barely grazing his red hair.

"Hey! That's no way to treat a lady," Grell whines, scrambling to his feet. "When I don't get my beauty sleep I tend to be cranky!" He fixes his yellow-green eyes on the retreating black shape and runs after it, nimbly leaping across rooftops and chimneys in pursuit.

"My sincerest apologies," the voice replies with just a touch of sarcasm, "but I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a hurry." The man stops, turning to smirk at Grell.

Grell halts and stares at the man, trying to get a good look at him in the last lights of dusk. He sees a tall man with pale skin and dark hair, smartly dressed in a black suit. Strangest of all, he's carrying a child in his arms. _I know you, _Grell thinks excitedly. "You look awfully familiar," he calls flirtatiously. "Want to go out for a drink?"

"I can't right now," the man calls back. "Maybe another time."

"Sebastian!" the child shouts. "Stop flirting, we don't have much time!"

"Quite right, my lord," Sebastian answers. He leans back and simply falls off the side of the building.

"Sebas-chan!" Grell squeals. "Come back!" He crosses the remaining roofs and leaps to the ground. He looks around, noting that he's in a dark, narrow alley. How romantic.

Unfortunately, Sebastian is rather busy. A bunch of thieves are firing their petty little guns, running around and shouting. Sebastian easily dodges their bullets, throwing dinner knives like darts. The child, Ceil Phantomhive, is nowhere in sight.

"Leave my Sebas-chan alone!" Grell cries shrilly, leaping straight into the ruckus, swinging his chainsaw and slicing a few men in half. Sebastian's knives take care of the rest. In just a few moments, the alleyway is quiet, and Grell sets to work.

As a Shinigami, it's Grell's responsibility to record the bandits' deaths in his black-and-red book, observe their cinematic records, to reap their souls and send them on. This only takes a few minutes, as the men aren't anyone of great importance.

Grell straightens up and turns around. The young Earl has emerged from wherever he was hiding and is staring balefully at Grell, who strides past him towards his loyal butler. "Well, Sebas-chan, we certainly make a great team," he trills, batting his eyes.

"I thank you for your assistance, Grell, but I can assure you it was unnecessary."

"Sebastian," Ciel cuts in impatiently.

"Yes, my lord." Sebastian goes over to the thieves' bodies, rummaging through their jackets while Grell gives Ciel a lecture on the impoliteness of interrupting a lady while she's talking.

"Here it is, my lord." Sebastian is holding a small, plain-looking brown chest.

Grell neither knows nor cares what's in the little box or why the bandits wanted it. "Seb– " he begins to say.

"Good. Now take me back to the manor, Sebastian," Ciel orders, ignoring Grell.

"Of course." Sebastian hands the box to his young master, who tucks it into his jacket. He picks up Ciel and, without so much as a nod to Grell, leaps away.

Grell heaves a sigh as he watches the dark form of Sebastian vanish over the rooftops. He wanders down the twilit road, lost in thought, wondering why Sebastian doesn't reciprocate the feelings Grell has for him. _I just don't understand...I try to be nice to him...do I come on too strong? Is that it? Is he a man who needs his space?_

He pauses by a dimly lit building and looks at his reflection in the glass window, studying his pale face, shark-like teeth, and shocking red hair. Yellow-green eyes look out worriedly behind stylish red glasses. Grell bites his lip, wondering if maybe he isn't as beautiful as he had always thought.

Suddenly, Grell realizes that his reflection seems different, distorted somehow. It takes him a minute to realize that someone on the other side of the window is staring out at him. Grell jumps in surprise as an eerie grin spreads across the figure's face. And what a strange face it was, shrouded in shadows thrown by the brim of a large, crooked black top hat, with a lock of silver hair that covers the eyes but doesn't quite hide a long, jagged scar.


	2. Chapter 2: Undertaker

Undertaker is lying in a half-open coffin, thinking. Recently he has been doing a lot of thinking. He hasn't forgotten that night on the ship, with the Bizarre Dolls, and all the fighting with Grell and Sebastian and Ronald. He hadn't meant to hurt anyone personally...it's just that he hadn't cared if someone were to die, and that's no crime; it would all be part of his experiment.

Since then, he has laid aside his Bizarre Dolls. If the reapers and that butler were still around, no doubt they would interfere. Undertaker wonders briefly why they are not as curious as he is about human death, life, and in between.

Out of the corner of his eye he notices a cloud of red by his window. Curious as ever, Undertaker slithers out of the coffin and approaches the window to get a better look.

_ It's Grell_, he thinks to himself, surprised. _What could Grell want?_ Grell doesn't appear to see him; in fact, he looks lost in thought. Undertaker stands silently, fascinated. He hasn't known Grell to be the philosophical type. After a few moments, Grell focuses on him, looking confused. Undertaker grins at this and Grell jumps in fright, hastily backing away. The reaper hesitates, and then opens the door and walks in.

The two are motionless for a heartbeat. Undertaker glances briefly at Grell's chainsaw and says, "I wasn't expecting a reaper today. May I interest you in a coffin?" He gestures to a stack of empty mahogany caskets.

"No thanks," Grell answers cautiously.

Another tick of silence, and then Undertaker says matter-of-factly, "The last time you saw me, you tried to kill me."

"Well, that's because you broke about every rule in the book," Grell points out.

"I was merely experimenting with life and death. You troublesome reapers interrupted me. It had nothing to do with you," Undertaker says airily, waving his hand.

"You can't tamper with death that way! It's illegal! William's still after you, you know," Grell says.

"I know he is. Is that why you're here? Do you intend to hunt me like a rabbit until I turn myself in?"

"I'm not hunting you," Grell says crossly, leaning his chainsaw against a wall.

"I'm glad," Undertaker replies happily. He watches Grell narrow his eyes in frustration. "I suppose you think I'm a disgrace to the name of Shinigami, is that it?" He starts giggling uncontrollably.

"Yes," Grell says haughtily.

"Then why is it you came to see me, if you hate me so much?"

Grell flushes pink. He appears to be fighting some internal battle. "I need your advice," he mutters.

"Advice?" Undertaker repeats. He walks closer to Grell. "About what?"

Grell closes his eyes and says sadly, "I'm having boy problems."

_ Boy problems?_ "What?" That was the last thing he had expected.

"I know! Why would such a beautiful creature as myself be having any trouble with men?" Grell whines.

"And why did you come to me for help?" Undertaker wants to know.

"Because you're smart," Grell admits. "You know a lot of things. And I was just passing by and thought I'd ask."

"But you just made it pretty clear that you aren't particularly fond of me."

Grell sighs and says flatly, "We're both in trouble with William. We can call a truce for today."

Undertaker shrugs and extends his hand, and Grell shakes it. Undertaker grins and pulls hard on the reaper's hand, so that he stumbles forward, nearly falling. Undertaker looks down at Grell in amusement and asks, "Well, who is it?"

Grell straightens up before he answers, running a hand through his hair. "Sebastian Michaelis," he answers. "You know, the Phantomhive butler?"

"Ah, of course," Undertaker says thoughtfully. He remembers the myriad of times Grell has blatantly hit on Sebastian. "And, I take it, doesn't feel the same way about you?"

Grell hangs his flaming head and murmurs, "No."

_ Hmm. _"Well then, I don't usually do this often, but today I will talk with you free of charge. You should know that I'm only giving you this discount because I'm not well learned in the field of romance." He twirls his hand dramatically on the last word. "It wouldn't be fair to you."

"You're not?" Grell sounds a little disbelieving.

"I have never desired the companionship of another. I prefer the dead." Undertaker strokes the death-pale face of a young woman lying in a coffin.

"Well – do you have any advice for me?"

Undertaker chuckles again and sits down at a small black desk, gesturing that Grell should sit across from him. The reaper does so, a bit apprehensively. Undertaker taps his long, black nails on the desk and says, "Tell me, Grell – why is it that you are so taken by this butler?"

"He's so handsome," Grell answers immediately. "And he's very confident in himself, I can tell by the way he talks. I like my men strong, you know."

"And...is that it?"

Grell pauses. "He – um..."

The Undertaker smiles, his fingers interlocked under his chin. "That speaks for itself, don't you think?"

"No! You're wrong!" Grell shouts, standing. "I _love _him!"

Undertaker raises his eyebrows. "No, you don't. You're simply carried away by his looks and his self-assured attitude." He rises to his feet and spins about the room with his top hat in one hand, the other over his heart.

"You're in love, yes, but not with him." Undertaker stops in front of Grell, leans in close and whispers theatrically, "You're in love with the idea of being in love."

Grell leans backward, turning his head away. "Whatever."

Undertaker backs up, perching his hat back on his head. He turns around and says casually, "If you're still confused, I advise you go have a talk with a Sebastian. That should be interesting...he, he."


	3. Chapter 3: Grell

By the time Grell has reached the Phantomhive manor, night has fully fallen. Grell quickly climbs up the side of the mansion, and walks across the roof, with the intent of sliding down one of the chimneys into the house and finding Sebastian inside.

However, Sebastian is already kneeling on the roof, on the lookout for intruders. "Grell Sutcliff?" he asks, his voice a mixture of surprise and exasperation. He gets up and walks to Grell. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Since his visit with Undertaker earlier that evening, Grell has been carefully considering his situation, coming to the conclusion that there is only one thing to do. Now, he takes a deep breath and says firmly, "Sebastian, I know this may come as a shock, but I just had to tell you that no matter how hard you beg me I simply will not go out with you." He pauses to let that sink in.

Sebastian looks politely confused. "What – "

"Don't try and convince me!" Grell wags his finger in Sebastian's face. "I know that you've never liked me, and I'm sick of you treating me like dirt. We're over, Sebas-_chan." _With that last word, Grell turns and jumps off the roof and into the treetops.

Perched on a branch, he gives a small sigh, wondering if what he has just done was such a good idea. _Of course it is, _he tells himself. _You deserve better than him. _Smiling, he jumps across to the next tree, setting out to reap a few souls.

The next afternoon, when his shift is over, he decides to pay a visit to Undertaker. _He deserves to know the good news, I suppose._

Gingerly, he pushes the door open and steps inside. "Undertaker?" he calls, looking around. The place looks deserted. _That's strange, _Grell thinks. He turns around and yelps when he finds himself face-to-face with Undertaker, who certainly wasn't there a second ago.

Undertaker giggles and says, "You're so easy to scare. Are you going to fight me today?"

Grell rolls his eyes. "Not today."

"Wonderful."

"Well, I talked to Sebastian."

"Oh? And how did it go?"

"Not too bad. He seemed distraught, of course," Grell exaggerates, "but he got the message loud and clear! I'm not going to let him walk all over me anymore!"

Looking unsure of how to respond, Undertaker says, "That's good."

Suddenly, Grell bursts into tears. "I miss him already!" he sobs. "I – I just wanted him to like me back!" He collapses in a heap, bawling.

"Oh dear," Grell hears Undertaker say to himself. "What should I do?"

A second later, a hand with long black nails swoops down, grabs Grell by the collar and hauls him to his feet. Grell lets out a shriek and demands, "Unhand me immediately!"

Ignoring this, Undertaker slaps Grell hard in the face, knocking his glasses askew. Grell shrieks again, more out of offended shock than pain. "Pull yourself together!" Undertaker yells, shaking Grell by the shoulders. "Are you going to remain a miserable little mess your whole life? It's time for you to move on!"

Grell shakes his head a little, trying to get his eyes to focus. "Let go of me, Undertaker!" he howls in his face. "I can't even see straight!"

Undertaker releases Grell, who stumbles backward, clutching his head. "Maybe I was too harsh," Undertaker says out loud to himself, watching the dizzy reaper try to regain his balance.

It takes a few moments for the world to stop spinning. "What was that for, Undertaker?" Grell splutters indignantly. "You can't handle a lady like that!"

"My apologies," Undertaker giggles, "but I warned you yesterday that I'm not very good at this."

"Hmph." Nose in the air, Grell asks, "Do you want to hear the rest of my story or not?"

"By all means, pray continue," Undertaker says, his infuriating grin still in place.

"Well, after I put that rotten butler in his place, I had to get right back to work. You know how it is, you forget to reap one or two souls here and there and William scolds you like there's no tomorrow."

"Of course."

"So I was just doing what I do best, you know, me and my chainsaw, and then I realized something. Do you know what I realized, Undertaker?"

"N– "

"I realized," Grell proclaims dramatically, "that no self-respecting woman should rely on a man to make her happy!"

Undertaker stifles a laugh. "How lovely."

"And so," Grell continues loudly, "I have decided not to fall in love ever again, from this moment until forever!"

A very loud silence follows this exclamation. Then Undertaker chuckles again. "Good for you. This has been fun. But now that we've gotten that out of the way, I really need to – "

"I know you wish I could stay," Grell interrupts, "but I really must be going now. Ta-ta!" With a little wave, he prances out the door.


	4. Chapter 4: Undertaker

A few days pass. Undertaker keeps busy arranging funerals, working with the underworld of Britain.

He's lying inside of a nice coffin, propped against the wall, thinking about the fragility of human bodies when the door bangs open and footsteps hurry in.

"Undertaker!" a shrill voice cries, which he recognizes immediately. _I wonder what that ridiculous reaper wants now?_

"Undertaker, are you in?" a crisp, businesslike voice joins Grell's. Undertaker can hear footfalls, and then, a series of smart little raps on the lid of his coffin. "Come out, please."

Undertaker takes his time opening the coffin and walking out. Grell flies to him and clings to his legs, whimpering. Undertaker ignores this and looks at the man in front of him. He has neatly combed, dark hair, a spotless black suit, and yellowish eyes that frown sternly behind rectangular glasses. In his black-gloved hand is a long, metal rod tipped with sophisticated yet lethal-looking hedge clippers. "What a pleasure to see you, William," Undertaker says.

William T. Spears nods stiffly, then says, "Grell would like – "

"Help me, Undertaker," Grell whines at Undertaker's feet. "William – "

"Grell's performance as a reaper of souls is severely lacking," William cuts Grell off. "I have been instructed to relieve him of his duties, and – "

"It's not fair!" Grell wails. "They can't just – "

"Yes, we can," William says calmly. He adjusts his glasses with the end of his scythe. "Your little Jack the Ripper stunt was the beginning of the end for you. You're nothing but a mediocre troublemaker who gets distracted too easily – "

"See how mean he's being, Undertaker?" Grell complains. "How dare you speak to me like that, you scum of a man!" He glares at William before gazing up at Undertaker and smiling winningly. "Can't you help me, at all?" He bats his eyes.

"Oh dear," Undertaker murmurs airily, a finger on his chin. "What a predicament you're in."

"He insisted on my coming here in the hopes that you and I could negotiate," William says with a sarcastic edge to his voice. "I thought it best to humor him. If you please, I would appreciate it if you could calm him down so that I may be on my way."

"If he wanted us to negotiate," Undertaker says lightly, "why shouldn't we?" _Time for a little game, _he thinks. _This should be fun._

"No," William says flatly. "He is – "

"But you can't simply fire him on the spot without any kind of warning," Undertaker interrupts.

"We have given him plenty of warnings," William huffs.

"Really? Any official written documents? Any formal disciplinary hearings?"

There's a tiny, almost unnoticeable pause, and then, "No, but – "

"Anything other than your little frustrated scoldings?" Undertaker presses, quite enjoying himself.

William's eyes narrow in irritation. "No," he says with an edge in his voice.

"Then you can't prove that you've given him any warning, which is completely unprofessional," Undertaker concludes casually, shrugging.

"That's besides the point. Grell's trying to worm out of this is another prime example of his incompetence and immaturity."

Undertaker is starting to feel annoyed. However, his voice is very calm when he says, "I'm not interested in what you have personally against Grell, if anything. William, if you feel the need to punish this Shinigami, in this case you must send an official warning or put him on probation before simply stripping him of his job. You – "

"I used to hold you in very high esteem, you know," William says curtly. "But after you let loose the reanimated corpses, I lost all respect for you. I see now that you're just a lazy quitter with bad ideas."

In a flash, Undertaker reaches into the folds of his large black coat and seizes his scythe, which he swings at William, who ducks neatly. Grell is thrown aside as Undertaker dodges William's counterattack with the hedge clippers.

"You're a thief, too, apparently," William says smoothly, stepping quickly about. "That scythe belongs to the Management Dispatch Division."

"I would apologize for taking it," Undertaker replies sweetly, advancing and attacking again. William blocks him and retreats quickly. "But that would be insincere. I just couldn't bear to part with it."

William lunges with his scythe, missing Undertaker by a hair's breadth but succeeding in knocking off his hat.

Scythe in one hand, Undertaker takes his empty fist and whacks William's clippers out of his grip in one swift motion. "You're just a conceited workaholic." He steps close to William, trapping him in a corner, the handle of the scythe pressed lengthwise across his impeccable suit.

William wrinkles his nose, scowling into Undertaker's ever-present grin. "Forgive me," he says suddenly, and before Undertaker can react William has reached out and brushed away his long front locks, exposing the narrow, yellow-green eyes.

Undertaker remains still, smile fading a little. William looks at him curiously for a moment. Undertaker raises his eyebrows and William drops his hand. "Hmph," he snorts disdainfully. "What a waste." He shakes his head and says shortly, "Probation. You have one week to prove yourself. Any more foul-ups and you can clear off your desk, Grell." He pushes past the ex-reaper, picks up his hedge clippers, and stalks out the door.

Undertaker dusts himself off and looks around for Grell, who for once has held his tongue this entire time. The redhead is sitting on the floor, gazing starry-eyed at Undertaker with his jaw hanging open.

Undertaker gives a sweeping bow and announces, "You're welcome."

Grell leaps to his feet and squeals, "Thank you, thank you, thank you! You saved my life!"

"I saved your job," Undertaker corrects, picking up his hat and putting it on.

"Whatever!" Grell bounces up and down excitedly. "Will you help me? I know I need to do a better job, and I know you're pretty good at this, so – "

"He said you have a week to prove yourself worthy of keeping your job. So we might as well start now."


	5. Chapter 5: Grell

Grell spends the next seven days hunting down and carefully judging souls, with Undertaker's tutelage. William drops in on the third day to remind them to "behave."

As the days pass, they become very fond of each other. They particularly enjoy showing up to scenes a few minutes early so they can witness the murder.

The evening before William is scheduled to talk to them again, they have almost an hour before the next unfortunate on the list is scheduled to die, so they decide to visit a graveyard.

The night is overcast, clouds covering the moon, casting a dull gray light on the cemetery. They walk along the paths, Grell listening as Undertaker points out certain gravestones and tells stories about the people buried underneath them.

As Undertaker talks, Grell's mind strays from the story and focuses on Undertaker himself. _No wonder he's one of the most famous reapers. He's been all over Britian – probably all over the world, helping some of the most important humans die. _He recalls everything Undertaker has done recently. Retiring from his duties, openly defying the Dispatch Management Division, illegally experimenting with death in ways no one has done before. In spite of all this, Grell can't help but feel impressed.

After awhile, the two end up lounging beneath a tree. They're both quiet, until Grell remembers something and speaks up. "I still haven't forgiven you for scratching my face, that night on the ship."

Undertaker, lying on his back, cackles and asks, "Why not?"

"Because," Grell sniffs, "it's a crime to harm a maiden, especially her face!" He frowns at Undertaker, who's smirking at him.

"You're so peculiar."

"I am not! I just have a lot of respect for myself," Grell defends himself.

Undertaker, still chuckling, doesn't answer.

"Why are you always laughing?" Grell asks, in an attempt to hide his indignation.

"Because people are funny."

"Oh." _I guess that's true._

Undertaker rolls over, chin propped up on his elbows. "I'm sorry about hurting your face."

"Really?"

"No." He collapses in laughter again.

"No need to be rude," Grell says scornfully.

Undertaker sits up again, smiling at Grell. "The horror of having your pretty little face hurt – I do apologize. How can I make it up to you?"

Now it's Grell's turn to smile. "I don't know, let me think about it. I'll make you pay."

Undertaker flops carelessly onto his back again, his hat falling off and rolling a little ways away.

Grell ponders for a moment and comes up with an idea. "I know what I want," he says, nudging Undertaker's shoulder. The other man sits up and looks inquiringly at him. "You did your worst with my face," Grell says, "now it's my turn. Show me your eyes."

For a moment, Undertaker doesn't move and Grell's stomach jumps, fearing he's angry. Then, he shrugs and says, "I was expecting worse. My eyes? They're just like yours, you know. Regular Shinigami green." He obliges and pulls back his hair.

Grell's heart skips a beat, as it always does whenever he sees a handsome man. The forehead is low, above narrow, mischievous yellow-green eyes. The thin mouth, as usual, is grinning a slight, close-lipped smile. The long scar runs across the neck, up one cheek, over the nose, and through an eye. Grell wonders how the eye survived intact.

"How did you get that scar?" he asks curiously.

"Long story," Undertaker says evasively. He drops his hand and his eyes are hidden again, but Grell scoots closer and lifts his bangs up again.

"Why do you cover your eyes?"

"They immediately label me as a Shinigami. And I'm so nearsighted I may as well have something blocking my vision all the time," Undertaker says with a twinkle in his eye. Grell is struck by how different Undertaker looks without his hair obscuring his face.

They're both still for a moment. Then Grell asks, "If you're so careful about hiding them, why did you let William look at your eyes?"

"You ask a lot of questions," Undertaker murmurs, his strange voice betraying a slight appraisal of Grell's inquisitiveness.

"Well I want to know," Grell says, suddenly very conscious of how close they are. He can't keep his eyes off Undertaker's face. A thought comes to him suddenly. _It was never like this with Sebastian. _This is different. Undertaker listens when Grell talks. Undertaker was willing to fight William so Grell could keep his job.

It hits Grell that Undertaker is the only person to ever treat him as more than just a pet. Sebastian, Angelina, Ronald, even William – people he has considered his friends (or more) – Grell now doubts that they thought of him as anything but an assistant coworker or general nuisance.

Undertaker is looking at Grell intently, and Grell feels fluttery and shy inside. He's unsure if he likes feeling so timid – it certainly is a new feeling. Besides, the voice of reason all beings have in their heads is shouting at Grell that this is all wrong, that Undertaker is in trouble with the Dispatch Management Division, that Undertaker is dangerous and insane, that Grell could lose his job...

All of these thoughts fly through Grell's head, and suddenly the moon bursts through the clouds, bathing Undertaker's face in bright, silver light. Before he quite knows what he's doing Grell leans forward and kisses Undertaker full on the lips.

Undertaker doesn't seem surprised in the least. He immediately reciprocates, kissing back with a subtle eagerness, one hand at Grell's back and the other tangled in his hair. Grell wonders briefly why Undertaker is such a good kisser since he had claimed to have no experience of the sort. He brings one hand to his cheek, sliding the other around the back of his neck. Grell is all too aware of Undertaker's soft lips on his, and a shiver goes down his spine as he feels the long nails gently stroke his skin.

And then there is a loud crack and a shout from somewhere close by. Grell's eyes fly open and they break apart. The reaper looks around wildly and curses, groping inside his coat for his To-Die list.

"That's for us, isn't it?" Undertaker inquires.

"Yes," Grell says breathlessly, scrambling to his feet. "Apparently someone just got crushed by a rotting tree branch."

"How pleasant," Undertaker snickers, reaching for his hat.

"This is the last one before William visits me tomorrow," Grell says, trying not to think too much about what just happened. He snaps shut the To-Die book. "Let's go."


	6. Chapter 6: Undertaker

Undertaker is laying in one of the larger coffins in the back of his funeral parlor, with Grell in his arms, the bright red coat thrown over them like a sheet. They're both silent. A million questions are running around in Undertaker's head. _What happens next? What about the Bizarre Dolls? What will William do? Even if Grell keeps his job, will he be in trouble for being with me, a violator? "With" me, what does that mean, are we a couple now? _

Undertaker tries valiantly to put these thoughts out of his mind. He focuses on Grell's breathing. The silk lining in the casket is smooth and soft, just like Grell's hair.

Eventually Undertaker gives in to his preoccupations and breaks the silence. "So...what happens now?"

Grell lifts his head off Undertaker's chest and wrinkles his nose in thought. "I don't know," he answers honestly.

"Me either. I wonder if that's good or bad." Undertaker strokes Grell's cheek.

Grell looks lovingly at Undertaker, then reaches out and brushes his bangs out of his face. "Stop covering up your eyes."

"No." Undertaker shakes his hair back into his eyes.

Grell sticks his tongue out at him.

"You're so childish," Undertaker says. "Always upset when you don't get what you want."

"I'm not like that all time. Only sometimes." He moves Undertaker's bangs away again and plants a kiss in the middle of his forehead. Undertaker's skin tingles a little, and he pulls Grell closer so their lips meet. Grell cradles Undertaker's face in his hands, and Undertaker wraps his arms tighter around him. He allows himself to be carried away by the gentle yet fervent emotion behind Grell's lips. Undertaker's senses spin into overdrive, amplifying the smell of Grell's fruity perfume, the feeling of the other man on top of him, the sound of the quiet rustle of cloth as they shift together.

Bam! The door bursts open, someone calls, "Undertaker?" and they break apart, interrupted for the second time. Grell's head whips around, craning towards the door.

Undertaker frowns and hisses, "Who the hell is that?"

Grell reports, "Nobody, it's just William."

"Oh." Undertaker pulls Grell back into the kiss, ignoring the steps coming closer and the voice trying to summon him.

"Are you in? Under – " Even though his eyes are closed, Undertaker can sense William is standing over them.

He lets go of Grell, and, politely as possible, asks, "Do you need something?"

William arches one eyebrow. "I'm sorry to interrupt," he sneers, "but I have to review Grell's performance this past week, and I thought I may find him here. Grell, may I speak with you outside?" It's not really a question.

Grell sighs melodramatically and hops out of the coffin, following William out the door. Undertaker watches him go, absently fiddling with the red coat, unable to formulate any coherent thoughts, just waiting for him to return.

After a few minutes, Undertaker hears the door open and close. He goes to meet Grell, who runs into his arms, shouting gleefully, "I'm not fired!"

"Good," Undertaker says. He has thought everything would turn out fine, but he still felt relieved. He embraces Grell, by chance glancing out the window. William is still standing there, watching, his face stern and unreadable as ever, eyes unfriendly.

Grell steps back just a bit, and Undertaker looks at him, bringing his hands to either side of his waist. Grell sighs and smiles brilliantly at Undertaker, who leans in to kiss him.

A few moments later, they pull apart. Grell is looking at Undertaker with a very mischievous look in his eye. Undertaker smirks and gently moves his hands away, saying, "I have work to do."

Grell pouts, trying and failing to hide his disappointment. "Fine."

Undertaker goes around working as usual, making phone calls, writing letters, planning out his schedule for the next few weeks, and ignoring Grell as he sulks in the corner and occasionally whines, "Are you done yet?"

After a while, Undertaker turns and asks Grell, "Would you like to help me?"

Grell, now lying on the floor staring at the ceiling, sits up suspiciously. "What is it?"

"There's only one guest here tonight. We have to dress her up for her service in the morning."

Grell perks up a bit. "That sounds fun."

The two look over the corpse of a middle-aged woman, still as stone in her chestnut coffin. "She was probably beautiful when she was younger," Grell says, reaching for the red lipstick.

"She still is," Undertaker answers, combing her dark hair reverently. "See? Life is full of pain. Now, she's calm, relaxed. No flush of anger clouds her face, no tired shadows under her eyes. She doesn't shout or cry or talk on and on senselessly."

"You said something like that on the ship," Grell says.

Undertaker nods, remembering, and they continue in silence, until the woman is wearing a blue dress, red flowers in her hair and a silver necklace slung around her neck. She looks like she could be asleep. Her face is pale, with a gentle pink glow.

"You're right," Grell says. "She is beautiful."

"I'm glad you think so," Undertaker muses. "And I hope her family agrees. Humans are very odd that way."

Grell asks, "Do you have anything else you need to do?"

"Not at the moment."

"Good." Grell grabs Undertaker by the shoulders, whirling him around so they face each other, and reaches up to brush his bangs out of the way. "Now I'll appreciate it if you can focus on me."

Undertaker laughs and kisses him gladly, forgetting about everything in the world.

Suddenly there's a loud crash, and they both look around. "What is it now?" Grell complains, clutching Undertaker tight.

He strokes Grell's scarlet hair and says, "We'll soon find out." Mild irritation at being disrupted quickly gives way to a more apprehensive feeling. He assumes the crash was the sound of the windows shattering as about half a dozen well-dressed men surround them, all wielding their own scythes. William T. Spears is at the front of the troupe, looking displeased as usual.

"You couldn't knock first, William?" Undertaker chastises. "Ruining my windows and intruding on my privacy is rather impolite."

William ignores this and says, "Step away from Grell. You're under arrest."

"Arrest?" Undertaker says lightly. "Why?"

"Don't play the fool with me, Undertaker. You're a deserter and a violator. You broke the code of neutrality with humans. You illegally possess a Shinigami's death scythe. I could go on, but there isn't time. I'm afraid you'll have to come with me."

"Don't I have the right to a fair trial first?"

William narrows his eyes and orders, "Grell, move away from him."

Undertaker glances at Grell, who's looking very nervous, and says to William, "I don't think we need to involve him."

"But he became very involved a week ago, on the day he begged for you to save his job. I suppose you'd like to know that I disagreed at first, until he promised me he would lure you into a trap so we could take you. He said you would both be here tonight at midnight. I'll admit that I wasn't expecting him to take it quite so far."

His words crash over Undertaker like a poisonous wave. It takes a moment to sink in. _ That can't be true. _

Grell whimpers and steps out of Undertaker's arms. Undertaker stares at him, numb, disbelieving. "I'm sorry," Grell pleaded. "I didn't – I was going to tell you, but I couldn't – "

"Be quiet, Grell," William orders curtly. "Your work here is done."

"No!" Grell screams. "William, you could never understand, I – "

One of the other men comes forward and strikes Grell hard over the head with the butt of his sword. Grell crumples in a heap at William's feet. Undertaker winces at the sound.

"He's not dead," William says smoothly. "I know you must be worried."

Undertaker disregards this and finally finds his tongue. "You can't just arrest me, William," he says, his tone completely devoid of his usual flourishes. "I don't work for you anymore. Besides, I have a business to run, a business that benefits the both of us."

William doesn't answer that. Instead he says, "You can either come with us quietly or attempt to fight. I should call it to your attention that you seem to be heavily outnumbered."

Undertaker thinks quickly. He could try to fight his way out, and what with his sotoba and scythe he had a fair chance of succeeding. But what about Grell? Does that even matter anymore? Even if that worked, he'd have to be on the run, a fugitive. Besides, William would be sure to track him down, and to confiscate his scythe as well. It was just too risky.

He tosses his head and laughs, holding his wrists up in surrender. "Just don't strip-search me."

William nods to the one who just concussed Grell. He handcuffs Undertaker's unresisting hands and leads him out the door. Behind him, he can hear William mutter, "Never get paid overtime – not a pretty penny for all my hard work!"


	7. Chapter 7: Grell

Grell wakes slowly, tremendously conscious of the pounding ache in his head. Lethargically, he opens his eyes, wishing he were still asleep. It takes him a moment to remember why he's lying on the floor in a dark, empty funeral parlor with broken glass scattered on the floor. Then it all comes back in a sickening rush.

He stands up slowly, groaning, rubbing his head. "What have I done?" he murmurs in dismay. _I've ruined everything._.._I should've told him. _He glumly recalls the day William suddenly came to him, informed him he was fired, and demanded he turn in his chainsaw. He had been desperate, and soon into the following week he had more or less completely forgot about their agreement._ Reaping is everything to me. It's so thrilling to help the humans die. It's such an important task, and I don't care if I'm not as quick as the expert Shinigami. _If he had lost his scythe, there wouldn't really have been any reason for him to go on.

His sorrow turns into self-loathing. "Of course I would manage to fuck this up," he shouts, seizing handfuls of his own hair. "I thought it would be different this time!" He grabs a large clay urn off of a shelf and hurls it at a wall. It shatters magnificently, smoky ashes spilling all over the floor. He watches it guiltily. "Hope your life was better than mine," he mutters, absent-mindedly working his black gloves off his hands and throwing them on the ground.

Grell sinks to the floor, head in hands, and for some reason thinks about Madam Red. "Oh, Angelina. We made such a great team. But you let your feelings get in the way." He's always known that Angelina has never felt romantically for him. How could a woman so full of anger and hatred feel that way about anyone? The closest she could go to love, in her broken state, was her motherly affection for that Ciel Phantomhive. She could never love anyone the way she loved her sister's husband – particularly not Grell.

Grell, in return, has never thought of her the way he now thinks of Undertaker. He found her fascinating and admired her fiery personality. He loved her blazing passion for revenge and murder. But she threw all that away, revealing herself to be just a regular human with too many complicated emotions.

Grell doesn't regret killing her, but he does feel different about it now. At the time he had been frustrated, bored with ordinary people. Now, he pities Angelina, and is happy she's not living the same life anymore. Now that he's found a reason to live and a person to care for, he understands her a bit more. _Whenever I see the color red, _he thinks, _I'll remember her with gladness._

Still angry, Grell reaches out and takes a shard of glass that has been lying next to him. He holds it in his left hand, suddenly consumed by a desire to drag it across his neck. He grips it tightly, and instead slits the palm of his other hand, bringing a shock of pain and a neat line of bright, intense scarlet. Grell looks at the deep crimson against the pale white for a moment, taking in the beauty of the colors.

He gets to his feet and makes up his mind to find Undertaker, free him and beg for forgiveness. It's not much of a plan but it's the best he can think of at the present. There's only one place he knows where they might take a prisoner, and that's Shinigami library.


	8. Chapter 8: Undertaker

Undertaker's prison cell is, in reality, a large empty closet in the basement of the library, with a huge barred window built into the heavily locked door. He wasn't beaten or whipped or strip-searched, but his cloak and hat have been taken away, and now he's blindfolded and his hands are tied behind his back. Nevertheless, being locked in a small, dank room is not the most unpleasant thing to ever happen to him; it's a lot like being in a coffin.

To pass the time, he's been doing what he usually does in coffins, which is thinking. One of the more burning thoughts has been _I hope they don't find my scythe. _He had stored it in the funeral home before dressing up the corpse. He could only hope they weren't out searching the parlor now.

Aside from that, he's been thinking about Grell. What the hell had happened?

Suddenly he hears footsteps. _What could William want now?_ he thinks in exasperation, a fresh burst of bitterness flashing through his troubled mind.

The footsteps stop, and a familiar voice says quietly, "Let me untie you."

_ Dammit. _Undertaker lifts his head and asks, "Why?"

"Well, excuse me, but do you want to live in this godforsaken cage forever, or do you want to me to get you out?" Grell demands impatiently. "I'm just trying to help, don't be so difficult!"

Undertaker can't stifle a grin. "Brat." He stands up and walks carefully to the barred door. The blindfold is completely opaque, but even without his eyes he can sense Grell standing there, only inches away.

"Turn around," Grell directs. Undertaker frowns in irritation as Grell works at the knots. How humiliating, to be so dependent on another person, particularly when that person betrayed you and got you incarcerated.

He can feel that his hands are free. He flexes his lithe fingers and reaches up to undo the blindfold. Then he retreats a few steps and asks, "Why are you here?"

He half expects to Grell to throw a tantrum or start crying. Instead, he simply responds with, "We'll talk later," revs up his chainsaw, slices through the top and bottom of the bars in two quick slashes. The long metal rods clatter to the floor, and Grell turns and walks away, calling over his shoulder, "Come on."

Undertaker hesitates, torn between wanting to hit Grell and wanting to make out with him. He steps easily through the hole in the door, and follows after Grell, who leads him down a long hallway. They pass an unmoving body, and Undertaker thinks nothing of it except that he wasn't expecting Grell to beat someone up for him.

They continue up a flight of stairs, through various rooms full of books and up another flight of stairs. More and more unconscious bodies appear, thrown into bodies, sprawled across the otherwise spotless floor. "Did you kill all of them?" Undertaker wants to know, admiring the thin, ruby-colored lines across their throats.

"Mostly. Some of them are just knocked out and should wake up soon." Grell's voice is factual and uncolored, strikingly different from his usual disposition.

"Such precise cuts. Impossible to perform with your chainsaw, am I correct?" Undertaker pretends not to notice the awkwardness and tension between them.

"I needed to be as quiet as possible, so I used this instead." Grell holds up a bloody, jagged chunk of glass.

_Simple, but effective_.

They're quiet for a while, until Grell says disdainfully, "I left this one alive." He points to a table covered in books, and Undertaker laughs a little when he sees William, unconscious but alive, handcuffed to one of the legs.

Undertaker crouches next to him and says, "Hello." He looks up at Grell, who for some reason is putting on bright red lipstick, and says thoughtfully, "Hope he doesn't have the keys to these cuffs."

Grell nods and says, "I took care of that." He kneels next to William and runs his fingers through his hair. "Sweet dreams," he croons, kissing him on the cheek. He leaves a scarlet stain on William's pale skin. Grell sits back on his haunches and wipes the residual color off his own lips. "Let's go," he mutters to Undertaker. They stand up and keep walking until they've reached the front door.

They stand on the steps, looking up at the starry sky. Grell sighs and turns to Undertaker. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, "about everything."

Undertaker studies the constellations and responds, without looking at Grell, "Thank you for coming to rescue me."

And there they are, the tears he's been bracing himself for – Grell completely breaks down, and Undertaker realizes with a jolt that this is sincere and real, not about some other petty subject. "I just didn't know what else to do," he sobs. "I couldn't lose my job. I thought we were just – I didn't think that – "

All this bawling is making Undertaker very uncomfortable. Although he's upset that Grell didn't at least warn him, he knows that Grell truly is sorry; besides, he's never been one to hold a grudge.

Grell's still babbling away. "I didn't expect us to start really caring for each other, and you just mean so much to me, more than anyone, and this all happened really fast and I – "

Undertaker looks at him and says simply, "Grell."

The reaper stops talking, looking tearfully at Undertaker, sniffling loudly.

Undertaker grabs the other man by the waist and dips him low, kissing him passionately. Grell throws his arms around Undertaker, tangling his fingers in the long silver hair. Undertaker randomly notices that Grell's lips taste like berries. _Must be that lipstick._ Slowly, they straighten up, and Grell pulls back a little, smiling broadly with all his shark-like teeth. Undertaker grins back, and with his thumb wipes the tearstains off Grell's satiny cheek.

"Apology accepted," Undertaker says. "Now shut up."

Grell closes his eyes and sighs in relief. "Good. Now let's get out of here before William wakes up."


	9. Chapter 9: Grell

Grell carefully places the bloodstained piece of glass on top of Angelina's gravestone. He turns and walks back to Undertaker, taking his hand, and they walk down the path and out of the cemetery. After a few minutes of silence, Grell asks, "Are you going to tell Ciel Phantomhive about all this?" He's remembered that Undertaker frequently acts as an informant to the young Earl.

Undertaker shrugs. "I don't know if it would be wise to talk to him."

"Why not?"

"Recently he's not been too fond of me, after I said I was going to kidnap him that night on the ship. He takes everything far too personally, if you ask me."

Grell considers this. "I suppose so. What about William?"

"Ha, he isn't very happy with me either. Or you, for that matter."

"Do you think he'll try to capture you? Us?"

"Maybe," Undertaker says carelessly.

Soon they reach the funeral parlor. They stop outside the door. Undertaker looks at Grell and asks, "Are you afraid?"

"Not too much," Grell answers honestly. "William tends to underestimate people." He rolls his eyes.

"Yes, he does." Undertaker nods in agreement.

"So now what?" Grell wonders.

"I don't know," Undertaker replies, playing with a strand of Grell's hair. "We wait and see what happens next." He reaches out to push the door open, and holds it wide as Grell walks through. Then he heads inside, and the door slowly creaks shut.


End file.
